


Flyboys: Compromised

by Blue Falcon Art (scififan27)



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Anal Sex, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dubious Consent, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Morning After, Rule 34
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scififan27/pseuds/Blue%20Falcon%20Art
Summary: A head covered in a shock of dark hair, thick and tousled, rested on his chest, one strong, muscled arm slung over Wedge’s midsection. On the man’s face was a faded scar.Well kriff.





	Flyboys: Compromised

**Author's Note:**

> Browsing tags with a search term of "Wedge Antilles/" and found this pairing with 0 fics, so I decided to make one, because Rule 34.
> 
> Of course, only after I post this does a previous work show up. Here's the first fic of this pairing: [Faire Thee Well](https://archiveofourown.org/works/236591) by [shihadchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick)

“Oh _kriff_ yeah! That feels so kriffing _good_!” Wedge said, grinding back against the thick dick pounding into him.

He didn't entirely remember how he'd gotten here, but holy kriff, right now, it didn't matter, not when his cock, hard and heavy, bounced between his legs with every thrust, and little sparks of lightning tingled up and down his spine. Precum beaded at the tip of Wedge’s dick, and spattered against his thighs and lower belly.

His partner moved his hands from Wedge’s hips to his shoulders, and snapped his hips even harder, turning Wedge’s moans into sharp gasps.

Wedge collapsed forward, arms folding under him. The change of angle drew a long, shaky sob from him, the curve of his partner’s dick dragging over his prostate with every snap of his hips.

The change of angle must have done something for his partner too, because he moved his hands from gripping Wedge’s shoulders to pushing them down into the mattress, and growled, then changed from fast thrusts to big, hard ones that had Wedge screaming.

After several deep thrusts, the man pounding into him shuddered, his voice hoarse as he spent himself inside Wedge.

After that, he slowed down, laid down over Wedge’s back, nipped at the tops of Wedge’s ears, kissed his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s it, good boy,” he murmured, “so good.”

And this, this was good, this slow circular gyration of the man’s hips rubbed in all the right places, and Wedge reached for his cock, stroked it hard, and slow, in time with the advance and retreat of his partner’s dick, moaned needily.

“Are you close?” the guy asked.

Wedge nodded, eyes closed, mouth open as he panted. “Y...yeah.”

“How do you want it?” the guy murmured into his ear.

“Just…” Wedge’s voice hitched, “just like this…” A few more jerks of his hand over his cock, and Wedge’s body bowed as he came.

 

Wedge woke up with a pounding headache, and the unnerving sensation of someone draped over him. He opened his eyes, and oh stang was that a mistake, because a beam of bright sunlight shone through the blinds, right across Wedge’s face. He squinted his eyes, and he must have moved, or made a sound, because the person draped over him shifted, and mumbled something against Wedge’s chest in a deep pitched, most likely masculine, voice. A familiar voice.

Wedge raised his hand to shield his eyes, and looked down. A head covered in a shock of dark hair, thick and tousled, rested on his chest, one strong, muscled arm slung over Wedge’s midsection. On the man’s face was a faded scar. _Well kriff._

“Face?”

Face mumbled something again, but showed no sign he intended to move anytime soon.

Wedge tapped at Face’s shoulder. “Wake up, Lieutenant.”

Now Face rolled off of him, and stretched with a luxuriant yawn, and Force, Wedge didn't want to think about how the stretch showed off the whipcord muscles of his arms, the tidy, compact form that made Face popular with men and women alike.

As soon as Face was properly awake, he gave a startled gasp, and bolted away from Wedge. His feet tangled in the blankets, and he hit the floor with a painful thump.

Wedge too bolted from the bed, and knocked something onto the floor as he did. The action brought his attention to an ache between his ass cheeks. _Oh kriff I hope there’s a better explanation for that than the one my mind is currently supplying._

On the other side of the bed, Face untangled himself from the blankets, then stood. He stared at Wedge, mouth agape, and at any other time, Wedge would have struggled to keep a straight face greeted with that expression, but right now, he’s too mortified by the fact Face is butt-naked, and worse, that he himself is butt-naked.

Almost in unison, the two of them scrambled to cover up, Wedge grabbing a pillow and holding it over himself, and Face picking up the blankets to wrap around himself.

For several long moments, neither of them spoke. When they did, both started speaking at once, then stopped, and waited awkwardly for the other to start again.

“We need to discuss this,” Wedge said as he rubbed the fingers of his free hand on his temple, “but not until after I've had a cup of caf, and a painkiller.”

“Agreed,” Face said.

“First, I need a shower,” Wedge said. He bolted for the shower, eager to put some distance between himself and Face.

In the shower, Wedge tried to recall exactly what had happened last night. They’d gone out to a cantina near the base they were scoping out, hoping the Imperial pilots might prove talkative with a few drinks in them.

To the best of Wedge’s memory, however, he’d only had one alcoholic drink, the rest had been non-alcoholic. He didn’t remember Face having more than that either. Why then, did he have a hangover that felt like a Star Destroyer had landed on his head?

The next question was, how did they end up back at the hotel, with both of them sharing Wedge’s room? Wedge couldn’t remember anything at all about that, but was sure he hadn’t drank so much he’d blacked out. They were on a mission, it had been important that they remain sober, he wouldn’t have let them drink this much. No, something was definitely wrong with this picture, and it wasn’t just that he’d violated countless regulations, and a subordinate to boot.

Wedge considered himself lucky that he couldn’t remember much of anything between having a drink at the cantina, and waking up this morning. It was awkward enough already.

 

When Wedge came out of the shower, Face had already made him a mug of caf. Face handed it to him, then stepped into the refresher to have a shower himself.

Wedge took a sip of his caf, then swallowed two painkillers with a gulp of caf. While he waited for Face, he tidied the room, and searched for his commlink and datapad. Tidying the room, he found what had clattered to the floor earlier; more damning evidence of his likely exploits last night, a bottle of lube. He opened the drawer of the dresser next to the bed, and threw the bottle in there. Out of sight, out of mind.

What he didn't find were his commlink and datapad. He didn't find Face’s either. That was troubling.

Wedge had just about finished straightening up the room when Face came out of the shower.

Face took a look around the room. “While you were tidying, you didn't find my datapad, did you?”

Wedge shook his head. “No, nor mine, and no, I didn't find our commlinks either.”

“That’s… not good. Maybe if we ask at reception?”

Something told Wedge that they wouldn't find their datapad and commlinks at the hotel reception desk. “I’ve been thinking about that. I want to run something by you. How much do you remember drinking last night?”

Face rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “One bottle of lomin ale, I think.”

Wedge nodded slowly. That matched with his recollection too. “Do you remember who we were drinking with?”

Face closed his eyes, and furrowed his brow as he thought about it. “They said they were pilots. I think they were telling the truth about that. They had the right mannerisms, and there’s no mistaking Imperial-issued boots. One of them said he’d just got a promotion, right? He paid for a round, didn’t he?”

“He did. I think he slipped something into our drinks.”

Face opened his eyes. “Sounds logical to me. He did have the opportunity. If they had us made, then motive is a definite. Means is more fuzzy, but not unlikely.”

“Okay. Next step, buy another burn comm, contact Janson, and tell him the operation is compromised.”


End file.
